Love Conga Line
by icecreamlova
Summary: It is entirely too easy to fall in love with Feenie/Nick/Wright/the foolish Phoenix Wright. Just how many corners ARE there in this love polygon? P x ?


_Warnings: slash, het, talking... er, I'll let you find the last one out for yourself.

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_it is entirely too easy to fall for Phoenix Wright_

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Love Conga Line  
**_By icecreamlova_

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+ _The Love Polygon_ +

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- Iris: His Eyes -**

The first thing she noticed about him were his eyes.

So bright. So open. Somehow, she could see through the window of the photograph Dahlia handed her, and feel the warmth of those eyes encase her in a flood of sunlight.

She convinced herself that it had just been the angle of the camera, capturing something rare and precious. But then she met him, without the barrier of time and space.

It nearly took her breath away.

When had she last seen eyes without Sister Bikini's wistfulness? Without Dahlia's iciness? Without her mother's anger and her father's indifference? Without the quiet reserve she saw every day when she looked into the mirror, or the slowly growing guilt?

And those eyes... how could she help but yearn to have them see her, not the girl of spun sugar (too afraid to really tease or argue with him) but the glistening ice - like a sweetened ice-block, not like Hazakura's winters - and the snow?

How could she stop herself from wrapping the warmth around herself?

How could she keep from falling?

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- Dahlia Hawthorne: By Proxy -**

It was absolutely ridiculous.

Dahlia Hawthorne was not controlled by her heart, and even if she was, he had no business being there.

But more than once in the single day they spent together, she glanced at the rapture on his face, the utter lack of beguilement and pain... things she couldn't have.

Dahlia Hawthorne had always wanted things she couldn't have, especially when her little sister went on and on about eyes and warmth. Right in front of her eyes, Iris... blossomed, like a plant writhing free in the sun. Dahlia wanted that warmth.

Exotic playthings had always fascinated her, and what could be stranger to her than someone who showered love so freely?

That strange fascination might have bothered her, might have bloomed, given a little room, but Dahlia Hawthorne was not controlled by her heart.

And besides, alongside whatever else it was that made her heart prickle with jealousy, Dahlia hated his guts, so she supposed that it was all right.

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- Mia Fey: Idealistic Youth -**

He was nothing like Diego had been.

He was too young. Too peaceful. Too new to law, sparkling-bright, to have that bitter edge in his voice like Lana did; like she did, when she thought about lovers and flowers and mothers.

Mia stared at her apprentice, sometimes, uncomprehending, and wondered how that young man who had been so betrayed could be so... goofy was the best word for it. Mia understood his determination, his drive, but his personality, sometimes...

Eventually, she would catch herself watching him in a way that wasn't strictly professional, and wonder if she could bury that pain in her heart with something so searing - the pain she had thought would never leave, once. The hint of youthful idealism touched her in a way she had long thought gone.

So it didn't surprise her that when Redd White attacked her, the flash of his smile was one of the things she wanted most to see.

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- Maya Fey: A Hero -**

Phoenix wasn't the sort of hero Maya had once wanted to meet.

He wasn't smooth and suave, like Mr. Edgeworth liked to be. He wasn't cool and mysterious, like men on TV. He wasn't all 'leave-it-to-me, I'll-do-this-without-ruffling-a-spike-not-that-heroes-like-me-wear-our-hair-in-spikes' either.

And he had a frustrating habit of scrubbing the toilet when he didn't want to talk, and correcting her jokes.

(What sort of hero couldn't stop reiterating the difference between a ladder and a stepladder, anyway?)

But after Mr. Grossberg turned down her request for help, it was Phoenix who saved the day. When Mr. Edgeworth seemed so lost, it was Phoenix who found the truth. And when Maya held out a hand to grasp at wondering souls, it was him she found herself wishing were standing by her side.

Her hero.

Maybe it was just an inexperienced girl mixing up big-brother and boyfriend feelings, like Pearl seemed to, but Maya didn't think so. Their arguments started a... she couldn't describe it, but there was Something in their banter.

So she stayed with him.

He was always there for her.

She wanted to be there for him.

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- Miles Edgeworth: Sparks -**

It hadn't been when they were children in grade school.

It hadn't been when he received letters from the past.

It hadn't been when he learnt that his childhood friend had joined law.

But standing across from Wright in the courtroom and ready to fight to the bitter end, something hot and electric jolted through his body, like a current was running through his mouth. He had never felt like this when facing down other, more competent lawyers.

He thought it was just the surprise at greeting his past once more and told himself it would never happen again.

A few months later, it happened again.

As they argued, tossing arguments back and forth, Miles could feel something more in his voice; a rise of intensity in his arguments, real emotion leaking into his voice. He hadn't felt as alive since the last time Franziska let him brush her hair and Franziska's sister helped him with German. That had never happened before.

It was only when he saw Wright's assistant smiling at him, watched his foster-sister fly half way around the world just to battle Wright, and noticed the tears in a shy nun's eyes that he understood.

Phoenix Wright had a strange charisma he wasn't even aware of himself that drew other people to him.

And from the jolt he felt when their eyes met, Miles Edgeworth knew he hadn't escaped.

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- Franziska von Karma: Pride -**

By all rights she ought to hate that American fool.

He had no claim on being extraordinary; her father's blood ran through her veins, forty years of perfection. And yet he had overturned that record through bluff and trick, then gone on to destroy the tower she had built up from bricks of winning and pride and the von Karma name.

She ought to hate how something she held so jealously to her chest could be nothing, when she was a prodigy; when she was the best; when people heard her last name and respected her accordingly. She had certainly hated every other fool who refused to acknowledge the rules she held as gospel.

And she ought to refuse to face him in battle again; not because she was afraid, because a von Karma feared nothing, but because it was supposed to be beneath her dignity to pay any attention to the rickety law system half way across the world.

It took precisely one call to make her drop everything and fly there.

She was going to whip him senseless, she decided; crush him like a bug, until he begged for mercy. She was going to make him stop calling her 'little girl', 'meaningless girl' with that disapproving gaze of his. Franziska hadn't realized the depth of her obsession until she was actually disappointed it was Miles Edgeworth she was facing.

It made her want to laugh; loudly and hysterically, not at all befitting the name and legacy of von Karma that defined her world.

She hated him. She wanted to send him into hospital, and she STILL craved from him some tacit acknowledgement that she was not a child.

Was this how Miles felt?

The von Karma pride that had been passed so faithfully to her wanted his attention like a clingy child. It forced her to waste time in a different country, forgetting so much else. But most worryingly, the more time she spent with him... the more Franziska, not the von Karma, wanted his attention too.

It was entirely too easy to fall in love with the foolish Phoenix Wright.

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- Mr. C: Fidelity -**

Mr. C wasn't the sort that other people fell for, and Mr. C wasn't the sort that fell for others. But Phoenix Wright... Phoenix Wright had been there so long that Mr. C wouldn't survive without him.

Phoenix Wright was as necessary to Mr. C as cool water or warm sun.

But Mr. C knew that Phoenix Wright could never just belong to Mr. C.

The warm assistant; the shy, soft-voiced woman; the cold prosecutor; the scary one. Even that other presence, who Mr. C had known before Phoenix Wright came into Mr. C's life... they all loved him too. And the little girl, who loved Phoenix in a different way. Mr. C could not and would not compete with that.

And Mr. C knew that whatever happened to Phoenix, however kind Phoenix was, whoever he chose... many hearts would be broken.

Mr. C never told Phoenix this, though. Mr. C couldn't form the words. And Mr. C was content just being near Phoenix.

After all, Phoenix wasn't Mr. Charley the Cactus Plant's first owner, but it was Phoenix who'd stayed with it the longest.

_-fin-_

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I... I wrote slash... *faints*. This was going to be a 300 ~ 400 word short for Screenplay though Charley's "eyes", but then... yeah... I have no explanation for this. Flame away, if you want. Or just review._


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